


Deals With The Devil (Or At Least, His Underlings)

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Banter, Demon Shane Madej, Demon Summoning, Demons, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 18:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19068586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ricky Goldsworth summons a demon to ask a favor.





	Deals With The Devil (Or At Least, His Underlings)

"Y'know," said Ricky Goldsworth, looking over his sunglasses, "when I ordered a demon, I expected something a little more... demonic."

"What, so I'm a some _thing_ and not a some _one_?" Shane leaned forward in the summoning circle, his elbow digging into his thigh.

"Demons aren't people," Ricky said, making a dismissive hand gesture.

"And _I'm_ supposed to be the ultimate evil," said Shane, and he laughed. 

"Nothing evil about it," Ricky said serenely. "I'm just sayin'."

"What are you "just sayin'", bud?" Shane stretched - his long body barely fit within the confines of the small summoning circle. He could, in theory, step out of it, but he'd need to be invited first.

"Demons are their own tricky little category of person, aren't they?" Ricky was sitting outside the circle in a very loud suit - it was checked, and the tie was paisley. 

"We're our own tricky category in general," Shane said amicably. "But you should let me out."

"Why should I let you out?" Ricky stretched, and there was something predatory in the way he was looking at Shane. If Shane wasn't a demon, he might have been afraid. 

Luckily, it was pretty damn hard to scare him. 

"Because," said Shane, "you obviously summoned me. There's not much that I can do from in here, is there?"

"I'm sure there's _something_ you could do from in there," Ricky said lazily. There was a spot of blood on the cuff of his shirt. Shane vaguely wondered how he'd gotten that, but that was neither here nor there. 

"I'm technically still in Hell from here," said Shane.

Ricky raised an eyebrow. "In that living in this world is a Hell in and of itself?"

"Oh, that was dark," Shane said, and he laughed. He saw Ricky's face go tight at the sound - humans always got weird at the sound of his laugh, which he never understood. Maybe because he had such a human sounding laugh? 

Shane was an Archduke of Hell, as these things were counted. It was complicated - Hell was always shaking things up, and they were almost always under some kind of new management. But here he was, summoned by some human. He knew the human's name - how could Shane not, when he'd gotten a taste for the human's blood? - but that was about it. 

"Will you grant me a wish?" Ricky stretched, and his garish tie rose up. The guy had the same fashion sense as some of the demons that Shane made a point of not hanging around. 

"I'm not a genie," said Shane. "Although if you're willing to make a trade..." He let the words trail off, but he grinned, making sure to hide his eyeteeth. They were sharper than the rest, and they tended to unsettle mortals. 

Although this guy was giving off vibes that he wasn't entirely mortal. It was hard to tell, stuck in this circle of salt, which was clouding his senses like incense. 

"I don't think you've got anything I'd be willing to trade for," Ricky said easily.

"You were _just_ asking me if I would grant you wishes, and suddenly you have nothing to trade for?" Shane made a disbelieving noise. "I know that you mortals are fickle, but this is a bit much, even for you!"

"There's a difference between a wish and a trade," said Ricky. "A gift horse versus a horse you'd buy, as it were."

"You know, I don't think you've ever actually been near a horse," said Shane. "And yet you mortals insist on continuing to use that idiom."

"It is a good one," Ricky said. He looked almost lazy, sitting on the floor cross legged in his ridiculously loud suit. "So why were _you_ , specifically summoned?"

"You know how it is," Shane said. "Someone dials the wrong number, but they sound cute and they ask for someone who's got a name like yours." It wasn't like that at all, but would Shane be a demon if he wasn't twisting the truth, just a bit? Anyway, the actual specifics would probably be boring to a human. Shane didn't entirely understand it himself.

Ricky gave him a thoughtful look. "So if I held you hostage, for the sake of getting a favor from Hell -"

"Hell doesn't care," Shane interrupted, before Ricky could get any bright ideas. "As much as it does value us, we are tools at the end of the day."

"You do seem to be a bit of a tool," Ricky said.

Shane let out a snort of laughter, and he was grinning. "That was a horrible joke," he said, with approval. "I can't believe you would insult me, a demon."

"You did just say yourself that Hell wouldn't even care if you disappeared," said Ricky. He took a flask out of his breast pocket, took a slug. 

Shane eyed it longingly. "While that may be true," he said, "that doesn't mean you need to rub it in."

"On the contrary," said Ricky, "I always find that kind of reminder... refreshing." 

“You are an odd one, aren’t you?” Shane tapped his index finger against his lower lip, deepin thought. “I’ll tell you what. If I swear on the dead gods, will you believe me?”

“Why would you swear on the dead gods, instead of the living ones?” Ricky looked intrigued.

“They’re more… testy when it comes to their oaths being broken,” Shane said, which was an understatement, but it was another thing that a mortal didn’t need to know the details of. 

“How can they do anything, if they’re already dead?”

“It’s complicated,” said Shane, because going into the specifics of all of that was enough to give him a headache on the best of days, and this strange human was very much making it not the best of days.

“A lot of things in Hell seem to be pretty complicated,” said Ricky. 

“If it was easy, it wouldn’t be Hell,” said Shane. 

“What, so Heaven is simple?” 

Shane thought back to his own time in Heaven, lo those many years ago.

“It was… it was different,” he said, because what else wa she going to tell a human?”

“Different,” Ricky echoed.

“Different,” Shane agreed. “Much different.”

“Can you tell me about _that_?” 

“If you asked me nicely enough,” Shane said, and he fluttered his eyelashes, doing his best to look alluring. 

"I know a whole bunch of different ways to ask nicely," said Ricky, and now he was smirking. "But I feel like there's a whole bunch of loopholes that I'm stepping into, by agreeing to ask nicely in the first place."

"You'd do well, down there," said Shane, and then he smiled extra wide, to make a point of showing off the sharp points of his teeth. "We need some skilled negotiators."

"I'm good with my current job," Ricky said, and he put his hands behind his back - it was totally an orchestrated move, to show off the shoulder holsters of his guns under his especially loud suit. "I have more fun."

"What, you think we don't have fun down there? We have loads of fun. _Buckets_ of it."

"Buckets," Ricky said, deadpan. Then he smirked. "I've got a bet for ya." 

"A bet," Shane said. "Isn't a bet like a deal?"

"Everything is like a deal, if you look at it the right way," said Ricky. "It's all in the perspective."

"Are you a second rate thug, or are you a philosopher?" So Shane was aiming a little low - he was having trouble penetrating this guy's facade. Humans usually had better tells than this.

"I can't moonlight on the side?" Ricky seemed unbothered. 

"But are you moonlighting as a second rate thug, or a philosopher?" The circle was getting cramped - Shane's legs were starting to hurt. He could, in theory, change his shape to fit a little better, but fuck that. 

"I'll leave that up to you to decide," Ricky said lazily.

"So... why did you call me?" This was getting silly.

"A guy can't just try to summon a being from the netherhells for a little chat?" Ricky drew his knees up to his chest. "Maybe I'm lonely."

"I feel like a bar might be a better place to meet people," said Shane. "A swinger's meet. A book shop. Maybe a cafe."

"If I was going to a swinger's meet, I'd have to know people in the first place," said Ricky. "Those are invite only kinda gigs, from what I understand."

"What, you don't go to 'em yourself? Good lookin' guy like yourself?" Shane waggled his eyebrows. 

"You're trying to flatter me, aren't you?" Ricky looked unimpressed.

Shane deflated, just a bit. "I mean, yeah," he said. "We're not so different, the two of us."

"Oh fuck, spare me _that_ ," said Ricky, and he actually laughed. "You're gonna try to pull the "we're not so different" bullshit and try to get me to let you out, and next thing you know you've got my soul."

"I could be quoting Kipling, y'know," said Shane. "Albeit in a slightly less... Kipling-esque way."

"I don't know Kipling," said Ricky.

"What, you've never kippled?" Shane was pleased with himself, even though the joke was older than he was. 

Ricky rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"We be of one blood, ye and I," said Shane, taking on the fluting tones that he associated with someone reciting a certain type of poetry. "Or are you that much of a heathen that you haven't even read the classics?"

"A demon is lecturing me on being a heathen," Ricky said. "That's a new one."

"But down to business," said Shane, and he rubbed his hands together, leaning forward and frowning. "Why did you summon me?"

"Maybe I wanted to see if I could do it," Ricky said easily. "Planning for the future."

"The future where you need to make deals with demons," said Shane.

"Exactly," said Ricky. "A practice run, before I try to get down to business."

"You think summoning me is just a practice run?" Shane glared, nettled in spite of himself. Something about this guy was getting under his skin, although fucked if he could figure out what it was. Maybe it was the smug expression. He'd never been one for smug expressions, except fro the one he saw in his won mirror.

"I mean," said Ricky, "if you were a _real_ demon, wouldn't you have wrangled my soul out of me by now?"

"You're assuming I want your soul in the first place," said Shane.

"Isn't that what you people trade in? Souls?"

"We can trade in other things as well," said Shane. "Souls are the most common, of course, but you strike me as a guy who wants to be above the common crowd."

"Now you're trying to feed my ego, aren't you?" Ricky smirked. "I'm not that easy to wind up, y'know."

"You're a tough egg to crack," Shane agreed. "But every egg does crack, eventually."

"Why are you so determined to crack me in the first place?"

"I'm a demon," Shane said. "That's what we do. We corrupt, we steal souls, we do all of those horrible things that human beings want to blame their baser instincts on." It was, of course, more complicated than that, but these things always were. 

“That sounds boring,” said Ricky. “Wouldn’t it be more fun for you to let _me_ try to crack _you_?”

That was a new one. “What do you mean by trying to crack me, exactly?” Shane shifted, to get more comfortable, and he ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up around the bases of his horns. 

“I dunno,” said Ricky. “It must be boring, always having to be the corruptor. Wouldn’t you want to be the corrupt-ee once and a while?” 

“Are you seriously offering to try to steal _my_ soul?” Shane threw his head back and laughed, and Ricky didn’t even flinch at the sound of it, the bastard. 

"Do demons have souls?" Ricky looked genuinely interested now. 

"That is a matter of a good deal of theological debate," said Shane. "I give a better debate when I'm not stuck in a circle of salt, though. It clouds my judgement, just a bit." Having salt this close to his skin was akin to sitting next to hot lava - livable, but not exactly pleasant. 

"How about we make a deal that you provide me some of what I want, and I don't bury you in the salt flats," said Ricky.

"What salt flats? We're not in Utah." 

"That you know of," said Ricky. "I could've worked some wicked mojo to fuck up your perception of Earth. Since you're not from Earth in the first place." He wriggled his fingers, like he was trying to cast a magic spell.

"Well, aren't _you_ making some assumptions," said Shane. "I could be from all sorts of places."

"You could indeed be," said Ricky. "But you're from Hell, and you've got something I want."

Oh _ho_. They were finally getting someplace.

"What is it that you want, Ricky Goldsworth?" Shane put a touch of a purr into his voice. He wanted to see if there'd be a flush of color to Ricky's face, or if Ricky would even... react, at all. 

He got a raised eyebrow in response.

"I need some of your essence," said Ricky, as if he was asking for a cup of sugar from the store down the lane.

"My essence," Shane echoed.

"Primo demon essence," Ricky said. "I know that you've got what I want."

"And what are you offering me in return?" Shane leaned forward - close enough that he was almost touching the salt.

"The chance to not be buried up to your neck in the salt flats, until you dissolve into a pile of goo," said Ricky.

"You're making a lot of assumptions in regards to me and goo," said Shane. "Why not charred bones?"

"I've done a few experiments," Ricky said casually, as if he was talking about making baking soda volcanoes or dissecting corpses. 

Of course, demons would come back, eventually. They were notoriously difficult to destroy. But the idea of having to reform after being turned into sludge was... unpleasant. 

Shane liked this guy.

"I can spit in a jar if that's what you'd like," Shane said, keeping his tone casual. "You do know that I can just disappear, if I wanted to."

"That is true," Ricky conceded, "but I know that demons are a curious bunch."

"And how, pray tell, do you know that?" What had this Ricky guy been up to, if he was so confident in his knowledge of demons?

"Humanity has a lot of stories," Ricky said casually, as if that was just a thing that people said. "I can figure stuff out without too much effort. If nothing else, there's always the old stories about chickpeas and poppy seeds."

Shane winced. So that was still remembered. "So you want some of my essence," he said to Ricky. "What do you need it for?"

"Oh, this and that," Ricky said. "So do you swear you'll make this deal?"

"I swear I'll make the deal," Shane said, although he was probably going to regret this. But fuck it - if nothing else, it would get him out of this circle of salt, right? And he _could_ leave, if he really needed to. He just... didn't want to. 

Ricky smiled like a thing from down there, and Shane's stomach churned. "That's what I like to hear," he said. 

* * *

Shane sat on a bed, and he looked over at Ricky. The man was removing his jacket, slinging it over the back of the chair, then rolling his sleeves up. The house they were in didn't seem to suit the guy - it was quiet. Almost subdued. Maybe it wasn't his house, come to think of it. If Ricky was willing to bury demons in the salt flats until they turned to sludge, he'd be willing to kill someone just for their house, right?

Not that Shane would judge too hard.

"So what do you need my essence for, anyway?" Shane stretched, and his body stretched against the two small skin it was trapped inside of. It was always like that, when he manifested. His self - his _everything_ \- was bigger than whatever this skin stretched over these fragile bones could ever take. 

"It's... useful," said Ricky. "You know how it is. You're doing your own thing, you want to cast a curse on someone, you need some demon semen, you find yourself fresh out."

"You want my semen, specifically," Shane said, and he was snickering a bit in spite of himself. "You couldn't lead with that?"

Ricky was undoing his cufflinks now, and he was rolling his sleeves up around his elbows. "It would be rude," he told Shane. "Saying, 'hey, by the way, could I get some of your magical jizz' at the start of a conversation seems presumptuous." 

“But summoning me into a circle of salt isn’t?” Shane curled his toes, enjoying the cool air on his skin. It had been a while since he’d been out in the open like this. 

“There’s a difference between being rude and being cautious,” said Ricky. “Discretion is the better part of virtue, or something like that.”

“I thought it was valor, not virtue.” Shane stretched his legs out, and he caught Ricky’s eyes on them. “Y’like what you see?”

“You’re certainly not bad to look at,” Ricky allowed, and then he was walking over. He was wearing heavy gold rings on a few different fingers, and his knuckles were scarred up. He looked like he did a lot of punching in his day to day life.

“I do my best,” Shane demurred. 

“Do you look like this on purpose? Or is this your default?” Ricky was standing directly in front of Shane now, and close enough that they weren’t touching, but also close enough that Shane could reach out and touch him. 

"It sounds creepy when you put it like that," Shane complained. He sighed, as Ricky's hand rested on his cheek. The rings were cool against Shane's skin. 

"The demon is complaining that I'm being creepy," Ricky said. "Okay. That's a new one for me, I'll grant you that."

"Have you talked to a lot of demons?" Shane hissed, as Ricky's hands buried themselves in his hair, yanking his head back. At least none of those rings were iron - he would have started to sizzle. 

"Oh, you know how it is," Ricky said, and he didn't say anything else. Instead, he bent his head forward, and he kissed Shane, right there and then. His mouth was dry, and tasted faintly like some kind of smokey alcohol. His fingers were insistent, sliding along the bases of Shane's horns, then twisting in Shane's hair again. He forced Shane's head back, and Shane looked at him, eyes hooded, mouth open as he panted. 

_I don't know how it is_ , thought Shane, and he moaned again, as Ricky's mouth traced along his jaw, his tongue darting out to taste Shane's sweat. 

"If you have so much trouble with salt, how do you sweat? Why does it taste like salt?" Ricky combed Shane's hair back, and Shane sighed in spite of himself, nerves tingling from the stimulation. 

"It's complicated," said Shane, because explaining the different sorts of sweat to a human was complicated. Shane didn't even understand it, and he lived it. 

"Why do you wear clothes?" Ricky's hand moved lower, across Shane's bare chest, down towards the waistband of his pants.

"Would _you_ want to walk around with your dick out all the time?" Shane shivered, as Ricky stepped away. He was warm, for a human. 

"If I could get away with it, sure," said Ricky. "Sounds like it'd be freeing."

"I... guess," said Shane, and he shrugged. "I like pockets too much." He looked down, surprised in spite of himself as Ricky got down on his knees. That wasn't something that Shane had expected. 

"What do demons keep in their pockets?" Ricky unfastened Shane's pants easily, opening them up and fishing Shane's cock out. "Hm. Looks more human than I though it would." 

"What were you expecting, hooks?" Shane hissed, resting his hand on top of Ricky's head. He was taking some enjoyment out of ruffling it up, although he found it crunchy with gel. 

"I don't know," Ricky said meditatively. Then he didn't say much of anything, because he was leaning forward, and his mouth was around Shane's cock.

"Oh," Shane said, which was probably a dumb thing to say, but it had been a while, okay? Demons weren't really... generous when it came to giving pleasure. He sighed, and he let himself relax into it. So this weird human wanted to make him come, then use his come for... who knew what? That wasn't his problem. It would _possibly_ become his problem at some later date, since someone having your essence was usually a bad idea, but what was the worst that this little twerp could do?

... He amended that thought, as he caught Ricky looking at him, his expression sharp. There was a lot more to this guy than he'd thought there was, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He usually underestimated humans - of course he underestimated humans - but, well... this one looked like he expected to be underestimated, and was just going along with it for a joke. It was a thing that Shane could recognize pretty instantly, considering how much he did it himself. 

He shuddered, his hips rolling forward and his head lolling back. Ricky's mouth was hot, wet, and his tongue was like velvet. Ricky gagged appealingly when Shane pressed his hips forward, and Shane grinned. He'd managed to get through that facade. He put his hands on the back of Ricky's head, intent on pushing Ricky down... and then Ricky pulled off.

"None of that," he said, and his expression went thoughtful. "Hm."

"Hm?" Shane raised an eyebrow. He was aware that he looked smug, and he was proud of himself in spite of it - even as a demon, it can be difficult to look smug with a visible erection. 

"You're a handsy thing, aren't you?" Ricky sat back on his heels, and he began to... loosen his tie?

"I mean," Shane said, "I've got these lovely opposable thumbs. I might as well use them, right?" He held his hands out for emphasis, and he wiggled his thumbs, because he could.

Ricky rolled his eyes. He grabbed one wrist, and he wrapped his tie around it, then wrapped it around Shane's other hand, forcing Shane's hands together. "That's better," he said, and then he smirked. "Less likely to be the devil's playground, hm?" 

“You know, that joke wasn’t funny the first time I heard it,” Shane said flatly, as Ricky settled down between Shane’s legs.

“A good joke is like fine wine,” Ricky told Shane, and he leaned forward, nuzzling into Shane’s shaft, kissing along the length of it. “You need to let it age a bit.”

“You drink much fine wine?” Ricky didn’t strike Shane as the “fine wine” sort - more as the “wine cooler” type. Then again, what did Shane know about human proclivities in regards to intoxicants?

“I’ve had a sniff or two,” Ricky said absently, and his tongue darted out, to lap at the head of Shane’s cock. “Am I going to have to worry about anything weird infecting me, shit like that?” 

“You… shouldn’t,” Shane mumbled. “I don’t have any kind of strange Hell illness, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’d be cool to get a pair of horns like yours,” Ricky said, and his breath was ticklish across the tip of Shane’s cock. “Although then again, I don’t think i have _nearly_ enough noggin to support it.”

“Are you s-saying my… head is big?” Shane shuddered, as Ricky began to suck on the head of his cock again, a little harder this time. 

Shane sighed, relaxing into the feeling in spite of himself. It was nice to get a blow job without having to worry about sharp teeth, or someone possibly biting his dick off just for the joke of it. It would grow back, eventually - being a demon did have its advantages, at the end of the day. But... well. 

Well.

Ricky gave much better blowjobs than he had a right to, all things considered. He didn't give off the vibe of the type of guy who'd want to _give_ in sex - Shane had banked on him being a "blowjob under the desk" sort of individual. But no - here was Ricky, on his knees, his hands on Shane's thighs, bobbing his head up and down as he sucked, his tongue doing tricky things to the tip of Shane's cock, his spit wet as it drooled down the length of Shane's shaft.

Shane looked down at his bound hands, his expression faintly dazed. Ricky's dark head bobbed between his legs, and Ricky's wet mouth moved up and down the length of his cock, then pulled off, to lap along the underside. He wrapped his lips around Shane's balls and he sucked on them, his tongue flickering out to trace along the seam down the middle. It was... it was intense, and his orgasm was already starting to crest on the very edge of his senses, leaving him weak, his hips jerking forward. Ricky's fist was wrapped around the base of his cock, and he let Shane loosely fuck his fist.

"God, you're... you've got some skills at this," Shane said roughly. 

Ricky pulled off of Shane's balls with a wet, dirty noise, and Shane's whole body _clenched_ , as arousal pooled through his body. He wasn't used to this kind of slow build up these days - demons tended to just _fuck_ , and try to get to the finish line as quickly as possible. But this human seemed to want to draw it out. Shane sighed, and he began to tense up, the sweetness in his stomach already beginning to get tighter, stronger. 

Only for Ricky to pull back.

"So," Ricky said, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, seemingly unconcerned by the spot of drool on his shirt, "I need a decent amount of demon jizz." He said that as if it was just a _thing_ that was said, as he stood up, going to rummage in a dresser.

"What?" Shane blinked over at him, his cock still throbbing against his body, leaking pre-come. 

"Need to build it up a bit," Ricky said, although his back was to Shane. Shane could hear a few clunkings and clinkings, and he wondered, faintly, what it was that Ricky was doing. He was aroused enough that he wasn't particularly paying attention to that. His whole body was already tingling, on edge, and his heels were digging into the bed, his mouth falling open as he tried to catch his breath. 

"Build it... up?" Shane blinked, as Ricky turned around. He was holding a mason jar in one hand and what looked like a bottle of lube in the other. He had taken off his rings as well. 

"Yep," Ricky said, and he grinned like a shark. "So," he said, and he put the jar on the floor, and got back down on his knees, "where were we?"

* * *

Ricky Goldsworth was a demon who belonged in the deepest reaches of Hell. He had the trickiest fingers of any human that Shane had ever experienced, and his mouth was more sinful than any devil. He kept backing off, right when Shane was about to come, and then he'd just... make polite conversation. Talk as if they were just meeting in a bar somewhere, ask about whatever stupid sports game was going on. Shane didn't care about sports. The extent to which he didn't care about sports would be funny, except _nothing_ right now could be funny, because he was so stupidly horny that he would probably sold out his closest friend, if it just lead him to orgasm. 

... Okay, so that was a bad example, because Shane would have sold his closest friend out for a croissant and a quick handy, but it was the principle of the matter, right?

"You think you're ready to keep going?" Ricky shoved Shane back, flat on his back. His fingers slid into the slick openness of Shane's hole, and Shane took some perverse delight in the way that his horns were ripping up the pillow. He gasped and moaned, as Ricky began to finger him, two thick fingers spreading inside of him, his shoulder moving as he pressed down on Shane's prostate. 

"Fuck," Shane said, and his voice cracked. They'd been doing this for hours - Shane had been staring at the clock, barely comprehending it as he was drawn to the edge of orgasm, then yanked back away from it. 

"That's what I'm doing," Ricky agreed, and his fingers went deeper, crooking in such a way that Shane was slipping into one of the languages of Hell. 

"You... could do well down there," Shane said thickly, as his hops twitched forward. His cock was drooling more pre-come, slicking up Ricky's hang as he fucked into Ricky's fist. He was so close all over again, and he didn't know how many times he'd been _almost there_ , only to reach... well, here. 

“I do like to think I’d do well in most places,” said Ricky, and he smirked again. The jerk.

“Fuck,” Shane said, because he’d lost all of his articulation - all of his _everything_ \- in the face (and tongue, and fist, and finger) of Ricky’s… everything.

“Maybe later,” Ricky said. “I think we’re getting close to the main event, don’t you?” 

Another orgasm was beginning to build in Shane’s gut, but this had already happened countless times. Shane had lost count as this point. So yeah, who cared if he was being brought to the brink, when he was just going to have it snatched away from him? He yanked at the tie, and it rubbed his raw wrists, as he twisted his hands around and around. 

He sobbed as the great fishhook yanked him by the gut, his cock pulsing like a star. He was just about to go over the brink when Ricky put the mason jar over his cock, and then the finger on his prostate was pressing harder, and he was sobbing as he just _came_.

It was like being cast out of Heaven (only not), it was like… it was like so many other things that he didn’t have similes for, except that his whole body was limp on the bed, his nerve endings tingling. He was _still_ coming, his dick spitting semen into the jar. It glowed, faintly. 

“That’s the ticket,” Ricky said, and his tone was downright reverential. He pulled his finger out of Shane and he held the jar up, examining it in the light. “This is gonna be real handy, next time I want you to pay a visit.” 

There was something faintly ominous about the way he said that, but Shane was too fucked out to worry about it. He’d poke it later - it was future Shane’s problem. 

Although the proprietary way that Ricky was looking at the jar, it seemed to be verging on a not-very-far-future Shane’s problem.


End file.
